


Redline

by blackchaps



Series: Hawkeye and the Furball [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Mercy Thompson Series - Patricia Briggs
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Exhaustion, M/M, Vaccinations, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-29 16:20:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5134442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackchaps/pseuds/blackchaps
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint and Phil are pushed to the limit by sickness, shifting, and a mission that reveals Clint is a badass with a myriad of issues regarding compliance and criticism. Lucky prances a lot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Redline

I fell into a rhythm during the next week. Part of the morning I spent with my favorite furball, not doing much besides drinking coffee and answering the occasional awkward question. Phil taught me to use my tablet and phone, and I spent more time than I should’ve downloading games. The infirmary was always my first stop after that, and both arms were sore now. One from shots, and one from being shot. It sounded funnier in my head because when I told Dr. Simmons, she glared at me.

Apparently, vaccinations were required from an early age, and the only reason I wasn’t dead was because of herd immunity, or so Jemma – Dr. Simmons – had lectured to me. I liked Jemma, even if I had no idea what she was talking about most of the time. On Friday, I received another damn shot, and within an hour was running a fever over a hundred. Lucky was frantic, Phil frowned a lot, and Jemma apologized about a million times. I spent the rest of the day in bed, grumbling.

I liked going to the gym and physical therapy. Getting my strength back meant getting in the air again, and I needed to go flying. In the evening, I usually found an excuse to haul Phil up to the flight deck with me to watch the sun go down, but instead, I was sweating and freezing, curled up in my nest.

“Go back to work, Phil. I’m fine.”

“No.” Phil’s back was hunched, and I’d seen his jaw shift shape several times. Lucky wanted out, but Phil dug in deeper at his computer. “Dr. Simmons said you might have a seizure.”

Groaning, I rolled my eyes at them both and flopped to my stomach. After a minute, I scooted so I could keep an eye on Phil. He looked away instantly, turning back, and I felt, not heard, a howl. I made an impulsive decision, getting up and going to him. Phil looked surprised, and I slid on to his lap before shifting. My underwear dropped to the floor, and Phil grunted from the weight.

“I’m going to have holes in all my clothes, aren’t I?” Phil muttered, but he wrapped an arm around me and curled so I was close, safe and warm, hidden in the folds of his coat. Being sick felt different, not quite so miserable, and I fluffed my feathers to lean against him.

It might’ve been ten minutes, or ten hours, I don’t know, but suddenly the door opened.

“Coulson, we got a problem.”

Phil didn’t so much as flinch, but I squawked a little, raising my head to glare at Fury.

“Bring Hawkeye.”

With a nod, Phil was on his feet, and I hopped to the desk before claiming Phil’s shoulder. I felt better, not so groggy and fevered. I’d gotten used to riding along, moving with the rhythm, not paying attention to where we were going.

We ended up in a conference room, covered with laptops, tablets, and maps, and I had some fun by landing near a werewolf and snapping my beak at him.

“Get them up to speed,” Fury said, not sticking around to do it himself.

“Is he going to bite me?”

“The mission, Agent Quartermaine.” Phil sounded patient. I peered at a map, discovering nothing familiar and spreading my wings in a big stretch. Making sure not to hit anyone, I still made papers fly, but no one – there were three humans at the table as well – complained. Phil made a gesture, and I shuffled to his side, not listening to the chatter flowing around me.

It grew quiet, and Phil gently ran his finger down my head. “Can you do it?”

I was tempted to shift since I had no idea what he was asking. He raised his eyebrows. “Give us the room.”

They scattered, and I shifted, sitting naked on the table and feeling foolish. “I wasn’t listening.”

“Really.” Phil smirked. “We have a downed quinjet in a heavily forested area. If we send in another, they’ll be shot down as well. You fly in, drop off the needed supplies, and get the hell out before someone shoots your tail feathers off.”

“Phil, I had no idea you liked my tail feathers.” I smirked back at him. “Do they need a new radiator or something?”

“Something.” Phil concentrated on the tablet. “I’m having them put a packet together for you. How much can you carry?”

“A fish?” I spread my hands. “I never tried anything heavier.”

“Okay, first go to medical. I’ll pick you up there. ETD is thirty minutes.” He tucked a tablet under his arm and got the door. “No one cares that you’re naked. Werewolves do it all the time.”

“I’m not a furball!” I got moving though, deciding to grumble later. Emma yakked a mile a minute at me, proclaimed me well for reasons not understood but she would get to the bottom of, and I wished I had pants. To her credit, she kept her eyes in safe territory.

Phil collected me with a nod and thanks, and I shifted to ride his shoulder. He took me to a large hanger, and a team was waiting on us. There was a small backpack at their feet, and I eyed it cautiously, hoping it wasn’t full of bricks.

One of them stepped forward. “Given his weight and wing span, he should be able to carry it the distance.”

“Hawkeye?” Phil hefted it.

I flexed my claws and considered it. It’d depend on whether I was gliding or flapping. My wing was mostly well, but with the weight, I’d have limited power. I curled my face into Phil’s neck and tried to send a word down the link.

 _Bow._

Phil scrunched up his face. “You want us to send a bow and arrows?”

I bobbed my head, chirping.

The team and Phil exchanged glances. I waited. Finally, a short, young man shuffled forward. “We have one that collapses. Lightweight. Short arrows. It shouldn’t add too much weight.”

“Get them.” Phil started pacing, and I could feel Lucky grumbling. Lucky wanted to go along. I pushed some love his way, and the guy was back, out of breath, attaching the bow to the pack and strapping the arrows to the side. Phil stepped away from the group. “Hawkeye, you’ll be in hostile territory. Don’t get captured.”

I nodded, not understanding but knowing I could do this.

“Two men and three women are counting on us.” Phil stroked my back. “Don’t be a hero. Just make the drop.”

Even if I could’ve, I wouldn’t have promised that. First, I wanted to look the situation over. Before I knew it, we were on a quinjet, moving fast. Phil hand fed me some chunks of meat while we traveled, and I was grateful. Shifting took energy. Some water, and I felt ready for anything, tugging at Phil’s coat with my beak. He smiled, and I rested against him until I felt him tense.

“We can’t go any further. Head for the sun, look for smoke, and don’t make Lucky come after you.”

I rubbed my face against his, and the back hatch was opening. The wind whipped inside, and I hoped that I wasn’t chewed up in the engines.

Phil had the pack. I jumped on it and got a good hold with my claws.

“Go to glide!”

I heard the engines cut off, and Phil gave me and the pack a toss out the back. When I was human, I was going to yell at him about giving a guy some warning, but first I had to survive. I spread my wings, kept a good hold, and a thermal pushed me higher. Banking, I oriented myself to fly west, and I could see the smoke in the far distance.

Wherever I was, it was nothing but trees, big ones, evergreens that were trying to reach the sky. It was cool, not cold, no snow on the ground, and I wanted to fly forever. I dipped for a few miles, but caught an updraft and went higher. The pack was heavier now, but I didn’t have far to go.

A clearing flashed below me, and I saw a group of soldiers, but they didn’t look up. I wanted to scream my defiance, but I throttled it down. The wreckage appeared beneath me, and I dived, panting now from the weight. No one shot at me, and I managed a clumsy landing in a large tree not far from the quinjet, or what was left of it.

The pack swung on a broken branch from where I’d dropped it, and I shifted, finding my balance. Wasting no time, I put on the pack and started climbing down. I couldn’t see any soldiers, but I kept an eye out. When my feet touched the ground, I turned and stared into the barrel of a pistol.

“Agent Phil Coulson sent me.” I tried to sound calm.

“Far as I know, Shield doesn’t have any eagles working for them.” The woman was blond, strong, and I knew she’d shoot me.

“That was last week. I’m new.” I put my hands up. “I saw the soldiers. They’re not far out.”

“Shit.” She holstered the gun. “Agent Morse. You?”

“Hawkeye.” I got the pack off, liberated the bow and arrows, and handed it to her. “Coulson thought you’d know what to do with this stuff. I’ll go slow them down.”

“Naked?”

I blushed all the way down to my toes. “You got pants?”

“Those, I got.”

We trotted to the wrecked quinjet, and I exchanged a nod with the other four. Two of them were injured badly enough that they didn’t even notice my arrival. She found me some green BDUs, and I slipped into them gratefully. I didn’t bother with a shirt.

“Where are you headed?” I asked.

“Border is five kilometers north. Help is waiting there.” Her hands were in the pack and she handed out the ammo like it was candy. Everyone was grim, and it was then I noticed the two men were wolves. She pointed, and they each picked up one of the wounded. “We’re ready. If I don’t see you again, thanks for your help.”

“Sure.” I wondered why they’d needed it, but it hadn’t been my call. “I just brought ammo?”

“And a few other goodies.” She grinned. “Get out of here, Hawkeye.”

I nodded and scurried on my way, back towards the soldiers. Not fifteen minutes after I left, a fireball boomed into the sky, and that was something else to ask Phil later. I found a set of trees perfect for what I had in mind. The soldiers had an armored truck, but the woods were too dense to make much progress without constant turning and stopping.

With the time I had, I popped open the bow, tested the pull, and smiled in surprise. Not bad for a little compound, and I nocked an arrow. It was a right hand bow, which was fine for today. I wouldn’t need any long range accuracy, just short power shots. My arm didn’t need to extend all the way back to get a full pull, but I wasn’t happy with the quality of the arrows. They were lightweight, and their tips were more like target arrows. Not sharp enough to tear through armor or take down a werewolf.

The truck wasn’t a new one, but it had a cover over the radiator. A cover with a slot on both sides and I planted the arrow deep inside without trying. Steam exploded, men yelled, and I stayed out of sight.

They were speaking Spanish and what I thought was Portuguese, but I could hear a loud voice screaming in what sounded like German. Now that I was closer I could see their uniforms were a mess of different styles and no two men looked the same. Mercenaries, and why they were after SHIELD agents was another question for Phil to answer.

They started pulling big guns out of the back of the truck, and I found a spot to discourage them. Knees and asses were fair game, and I got off ten arrows before anyone even thought to fire my direction. I crouched and got moving, no bullets coming close. I did a quick arrow count, found fifteen more, and hid up a huge tree with branches that were easy to climb.

The German man was pushing them forward again, screaming his rage, and I considered all the angles before taking the next eight shots. A few of them ran away, some crawled back towards the truck, and gunfire rained down on the forest. I felt bad for the trees. When they stopped to reload, I bolted like a crazy squirrel, up, over, and down until I was nearly behind them.

Seven more arrows, and I made sure the last one went right through the eye of the German. He’d shot one of his own men, trying to get to me, and I didn’t feel an ounce of guilt. Once he dropped, men ran and limped away, carrying a few of their companions and abandoning the truck. I waited until I was sure they were gone and then ran to him. I’d seen something bulging in his jacket, and I snatched up a box. Satisfied, I climbed to the top of a large tree, hung the bow on a branch and stashed the box in a squirrel hole. I took a deep breath and jumped, shifting into my feathers to chase after the SHIELD agents.

It was a nice day to fly, and I could feel some burn in my wing, but I was fine. The wind took me high, and I screamed because it felt good. Deep inside me, I felt a tug that I knew was Lucky checking on me, and I dived, finding them without any problem.

I shadowed them until they burst through the trees to find a small airfield. A quinjet waited for them, and I glided to it, not surprised when Phil came out to stare up at me. He raised his arm, and I humored him, landing with only minor gouging. Pulling me close, he headed straight back inside, and two minutes later, we were in the air.

It was a tight fit with eight of us plus two pilots. I decided to stay in my feathers so I didn’t take up any more room. A medic worked over the two injured agents, and Agent Morse gave her report to Phil near the front. I tried to pay strict attention so I’d know what was going on, but one of the werewolves howled and one of the humans kept groaning, and the adrenaline that had made it all so easy drained out of me.

Slumping onto Phil, I hunched my wings and turned my head back to rest.

“He looks like a duck.”

“He started the day sick and managed a rescue. Cut him some slack.” Phil pulled a blanket up and mostly over me, and I was gone into sleep.

********

Phil made sure Clint could breathe, but he was clearly sound asleep. His head and neck rotated a full one hundred and eighty degrees to rest in his feathers, and it looked alarming. Morse kept shooting him tiny glances.

“Never saw you as the kind of man to own a pet,” she said.

Lucky growled, and Phil narrowed his eyes at her. “Hawkeye and I are mates.” It wasn’t a complete lie.

Now her eyes widened. “My apologies. Since I’m not a wolf, I couldn’t smell it.”

“I know, so I’ll forgive it.” Phil still went ahead and growled, glad when she looked away. “That was a fine mess.”

“No way to know that Landry would double-cross us. He used us to find the item.” Morse sighed, slumping back in her seat, but her eyes were on her team. “Fired a rocket launcher on the quinjet. Cooked our goose.”

He stroked his fingers through a few feathers, settling them. He didn’t appreciate her bird humor. “The item?”

“Gone to the highest bidder, I assume.” She rubbed her face. “Not my finest mission.”

“We’ll keep an eye out.” Phil thought it’d turn up. Alien artifacts usually did. “Rest. Director Fury will want a full report.”

“Yes, sir, and thanks for sending your bird.”

Phil nodded, growling under his breath. The smell of blood and pain was making the werewolves fidget and whine, and Phil put their wolves to sleep to give them some rest. They looked confused but then settled back, shutting their eyes. The injured humans were stabilized, and Phil made sure medics were on deck as they landed.

After everyone else debarked, Phil got to his feet, and Clint opened a sleepy eye. In a blink, Phil had an armful of groggy mate. Lucky howled in happiness, and Phil tried to hide his grin. “Better?”

“Yeah.” Clint kept close to him as they headed below. Phil wrapped his arm around Clint’s middle and tried to keep him from stumbling. “Hungry.”

“I bet.” Phil pressed a kiss to the side of Clint’s head, smelling exhaustion, fear, pain and blood. “No injuries?”

“Just tired. Too much flying and switching. Next time warn me before you toss me out of a plane with a bag of ammo, okay?” Clint’s steps were dragging.

“It wasn’t just ammo.” Phil swept Clint up into his arms and moved through the helicarrier at a rapid pace. Clint grumbled about his pride, but he was asleep by the time Phil put him in his nest. Phil called Dr. Simmons to come check him. Pushing the pillows and blankets around, Phil got him covered to the waist.

When the door flew open, he turned in a crouch, growling. Dr. Simmons raised her hands, one of which held a medikit. “He’s safe. I’m here to help.”

Phil knew that, but his instincts raged, and he took several deep breaths. “Mine.”

“I know. Everyone knows.” She slowly lowered her arms, curling his shoulders and keeping her eyes down. “You and your wolf are very lucky.”

“Lucky.” Phil knew his eyes were golden, and he wasn’t speaking so much as his wolf was. “My bird needs help.”

She smiled. “I have everything right here. Let me?”

He brushed his hand down Clint’s face one more time before nodding and moving to the other side of the bed. He couldn’t bear to go any further away. “Help.”

Dr. Simmons was quick, professional, and Clint was fine, except for some dehydration. She ordered an IV for him and did the work herself. He took the container of warm wipes she handed him. “If you clean him up, you’ll feel better. I’m sure he smells.”

“Pain.”

“A little, but he’s okay, especially with you to watch.” She smiled, and he liked her. “Call me if you need me, but I’ll be back before that IV bag is empty. Let him sleep.” She patted Clint on the arm and beat it out the door with a wave of her hand. Phil needed to shift, but he also needed to get rid of some of the smell on his mate. He fumbled a bit opening the wipes, and he told himself not to rush. Clint was deeply asleep, and Phil calmed himself with long strokes, getting the dirt and stench off him. Phil removed his suit one piece at a time as he worked until they were both naked.

The wipes went in the trash, and Phil lost his battle to keep Lucky from his mate. Phil let go without too much complaining, but he was worried as well. Shifting hurt, but when it was over Lucky raced madly to the bed, only to tiptoe on it and flop down as close to Clint as possible. Clint grinned and rolled so his arm was over the top of him.

“Furball,” Clint muttered, but Lucky could hear the love. Lucky wiggled to get comfortable and dozed, staying on guard. His mate needed his ears, and he wouldn’t let him down.

Lucky woke with a start when the door opened, and he smelled her before he saw her. He let her take out the IV, but he kept her from doing more to his mate. She sighed at him and then left without snarling. Lucky liked her, but it was sleep time. He tugged a blanket higher with his teeth and rested his chin on Clint’s leg.

He dozed until the door opened again, and even though he knew it was Fury, his friend, he put himself between his mate and the door, lifting his lips off his teeth.

“Are you growling at me? Are your hackles up? Coulson, don’t make me fire you.”

Phil and Lucky stopped growling. Lucky looked back at his mate and again at Fury.

“I need a debrief.” Fury put his hands on his hips. “He can sleep later.”

That didn’t sound right. Lucky curled his lip and planted his paws a little more firmly. Fury sighed. “He’s tougher than you think.”

“If I debrief, will you two shut up?” Clint mumbled, pushing himself to sitting. Lucky dashed to him and tried to lick every bit of Clint’s face. Clint used Lucky’s strong body to get himself to his feet. “Shower first.”

“Conference room three, Coulson,” Fury said, shutting the door on his way out. Lucky whined, not liking the wobbling his mate was doing. Clint yawned, and Lucky pressed closer, needing to help. The shower was no place for a wolf, and Lucky whined until Clint emerged to grab a towel.

“You sure you want to do this as a wolf?” Clint went to one knee and hugged him, rubbing up and down. Lucky wiggled, and Phil pushed. They argued fiercely about cuddles and responsibilities until Clint tugged the wolf’s ear. “If you switch, maybe we can go for a run later.”

Lucky let out a long howl, and Clint laughed. Phil took over, curious now at that promise. Clint went to get dressed when he saw the shift happening. It hurt like hell, and Phil was determined to take a few days off from shifting. It was also making him so hungry it was hard to think. He growled and took a shower as soon as he was human.

“Thanks for being my ears.” Clint, dressed like a SHIELD agent, leaned against the sink and handed Phil a towel as he stepped out. “You didn’t sign up for that.”

“Yes, I did.” Phil scrubbed himself dry, wishing he felt comfortable enough to claim a kiss. “No hearing problems on the mission?”

“Nope.” Clint shrugged, sliding out the door. “I’ll grab some food and meet you there!”

“You don’t know the way!” But Phil was talking to an empty apartment.

*********

I supposed that reporting everything I’d done was part of being an agent, but I didn’t like the idea of it. The job was done. There was no reason to sit around and talk it to death. And find ways to blame me for anything that had gone wrong. I knew how it worked.

At first it was all sunshine and roses, and then they found reasons to complain about me. I’d been too slow. I’d missed a shot, even if I never missed. Trickshot would rip me a new one after every show. There wasn’t much hope that Fury would be any different.

Laden with bags of food, I made my way to the conference room, asking directions twice but careful to pick humans. I only passed one werewolf, and he gave me a skittish look, sniffing the air. His walk turned into more of a trot, and I decided not to think about it.

Another turn, and I was there. The door was open, and for half a second I considered making a break for it, but then Phil was taking two bags and smiling in what looked like relief.

“Did you think I was ditching you?”

“I thought you were lost.” Phil put himself between me and everyone else in the room. All eyes were on me, and I was glad I’d stuck my knife in my boot. I guess the boots were good for something. I took the chair left for me right next to Phil, and as hungry as I was, I was losing my appetite fast.

“Thanks for gracing us with your presence,” Fury growled. “Morse, start from the beginning.”

The pressure off me – I was going to ignore Fury’s sass – I made sure some of the food went in my stomach. Phil was handing me things to eat, and I noticed he wasn’t sharing with anyone else. The two wolves at the end of the table kept their eyes down, and I wondered where they ranked in the pack. Low was my guess.

“Agent Barton, your turn.” Fury turned his eye to me.

I swallowed my last bite. “I flew in, shifted, and gave Agent Morse the pack. She wanted to shoot me, and then we scattered. I sat in Phil’s lap on the way back.”

Silence fell. Fury’s eyebrow went up and stayed there. I popped the last bite of a burger in my mouth and shrugged at him. Phil cleared his throat. “Concise.”

“To say the damn least.” Fury growled, and I saw the two wolves hunker their shoulders in fear.

“Hawkeye said he saw soldiers after us,” Morse said. “And he said he’d engage them while we made a run for it.”

I turned a glare on her. Now she’d done it. From here on out, there’d be nothing but complaints. With a sigh, I said, “There were a few guys. No big deal.” I crossed my arms and refused to look at Phil. I knew werewolves could smell lies, but that had been the truth. Mostly.

“I want to know exactly what you did. Start from the moment you handed Agent Morse the pack.” Fury snarled out the words. “If Landry has the item, we need an idea of where he is.”

Everyone looked at me. I had no idea who Landry was, and I finally looked at Phil. Phil tilted his head. “Please. It’s important.”

“I shot them, legs mostly.” I didn’t like the undercurrents in the room. “They would’ve caught your team. I shot the radiator on the armored truck and made sure they all limped home.”

Phil eased his chair closer. “Didn’t they try to kill you?”

“Yes.” I could feel Lucky’s upset. “They were mercenaries. Amateurs. The bow was good quality. The arrows weren’t. I couldn’t do much with them.”

“Landry is a big man, likes to shout. Did you see him?” Phil kept the conversation between us.

“He speaks German?”

“Usually.”

I didn’t want to answer. Killing him had been murder, technically. Self-defense, really, but I hadn’t been forced. I’d chosen it. Phil put his hand on my knee. “He’s dead.”

It wasn’t a question. I didn’t even blink. “He had a weird box tucked in his coat. I snatched it and hid it up in a tree with the bow.”

Everyone started talking at once, and Fury got to his feet. “Out. Everyone.”

He put some force into the two words, and the room cleared like magic, except for Phil. Fury pulled a chair close enough to put his hand on my other knee, if he wanted, which I hoped he wouldn’t.

“You killed him with the bow, grabbed the item and stashed it. Is that accurate?”

“He shot one of his own men.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “I can retrieve the box. Lucky and I could get it, easily.”

Phil squeezed my knee. “How many men?”

“About thirty.” I looked him in the eye, waiting to see the rejection and anger. “I’m not sorry.”

“Do you… think we’re angry?” Phil sounded confused.

“Of course. I didn’t follow your orders. I probably committed murder, not sure it counts if they’re shooting at me, and I didn’t bring it back. I’m sorry.” And I was sorry for that stuff.

Fury rubbed his face with both hands, adjusted his patch, and began to laugh. “Imagine what he could do with pants,” he wheezed, getting up and going to the door. “Cheese, get a full report. I need a minute.”

“I had pants!” I got to my feet and shouted after him. Anger and embarrassment chased each other around in my head, and glancing at Phil, I sorted wanted to smack him. It’s not like it’d hurt him. “I screwed up! Just get to the part where you yell at me, and then we can move on!”

Phil stared at me. “Clint. Take a deep breath.”

I flopped into the chair and spread my hands, frustrated, confused and angry. “Why did he laugh?”

“Because you saved our people, stole back an alien artifact that we’d spent three weeks trying to find, and eliminated a horrible human who’d killed two of our agents. You did this all with only a tiny bow, sub-standard arrows, and no pants. He’s in shock. Give him a minute.”

“I had pants!” I rubbed my face and scrubbed a hand through my hair. “I didn’t screw up?”

“Not at all. You might receive a commendation, and I’m very sure you already received a promotion.” Phil smiled and pushed some food my direction. “Let’s eat. Tell me everything from the moment I threw you out the back of the quinjet.”

“You are never doing that again.” I stabbed a finger at him. “And stop hogging the French fries.”

Phil laughed, and we sat elbow-to-elbow, eating every scrap while I told him the story. He grumbled a few times when men were shooting at me, but he mostly just nodded until I was done.

“So, the box and the bow are up a tree not too far from the airport,” I finished. “Easy retrieval.”

“Noted. Let’s address the other issue. Why did you think we’d be angry?”

I leaned back, not wanting to discuss this at all. “My wing is still a little stiff. I’m going to head down to medical to have Jemma look at it.”

“I’ll just put down that you’re wary of criticism. How about that?”

“I really don’t get this place,” I muttered, scooping up the trash and making for the door. If I had to sit around and re-hash every mission I went on, I might start hiding in ductwork. Phil caught up with me quickly and put his hand on my arm.

“We care about you. You’re not just a tool to be used and put back on the shelf. If something upsets you, I can try to fix it. This job is dangerous--.”

“I got that from the bullets whizzing by my head,” I growled. “What the hell are we doing, Phil? Picking up trinkets at flea markets? Why did those agents get hurt? The CIA and the FBI protect our country. What the hell is Shield?”

Phil’s hand tightened on my arm. He seemed to take a deep breath. “This is why I don’t deal with new agents. I screw it up. I leave out pertinent information.” He looked at the floor. “I’ll try harder.”

I could almost feel Lucky hanging his head. “No, look, I’m sorry. There’s a lot to cover and you’re doing great.”

Raising an eyebrow, Phil sighed. “Let’s head to medical and then we’ll get some rest.”

Nodding, I made up my mind to not be such a dick in the future. Before I could think of another way to apologize, we were there, and Jemma fussed at me fiercely, even though I was fine and she knew it.

“Switch,” she demanded at the very moment I was hoping I could leave. I gave her my best sad eyes, but I could see she was unmoved. “I’m checking your wing. He threw you out of a quinjet!”

“It’s not like I asked him to!” I stripped in record time and shifted, clacking my beak at her. I could see she wasn’t afraid, even a little, and I huffed my feathers at her.

“Spread them,” she said, still glaring.

I did it without smacking her with a wing. I liked Jemma. She was like a mama bear. Her hands were gentle, probing the joint, and I gave a bird wince once. She nodded, made a note on her tablet, and I put my feathers away, re-dressing quickly.

“Rest and ice.” She pointed her stylus at me. “And no flying for a week.”

“A week!” I protested. “But… it’s nice out!”

“Don’t make me ground you for longer.” She walked with me back to the main door where Phil was waiting, shifting from foot to foot. I figured Lucky was after him so I gave him a quick hug.

“Protect me from her,” I whispered.

“No,” he whispered back, but I saw him hide a smile. I turned in time to see the surprise on Jemma’s face. I grinned at her.

“Phil’s a loveable guy,” I said, keeping an arm around Phil’s shoulders.

“Stop it,” Phil said with no heat behind the words. “I have a reputation.”

“A nice one, I bet.” I waved goodbye, found Phil’s hand, and dragged him towards our quarters. “I need sleep. Right now.”

“I could rest.” Phil shrugged, like he wasn’t tired but he was willing to humor me. I had no doubt he’d creep over to his desk as soon as I was asleep, ignoring his own need to rest.

Irritated, I rounded on him, getting right up in his face. A dominant wolf would’ve torn my head off for doing it. “You have bags under your eyes. You probably haven’t slept in days. I know shifting for Lucky takes energy, and I can see how tired you are. What the hell is your problem, Coulson?”

He actually winced, whether at the last name or my irritation was anyone’s guess. It seemed I wasn’t through being a dick today.

“The bird is right,” Fury said, strolling around the nearest corner. I didn’t think. I reacted, putting myself between them. Fury barked a strange laugh. “I’d eat you for lunch, chicken hawk.”

Unable to help myself, I bared my teeth at him. Phil wrenched me around by my shoulder. “He’s the alpha. You do not challenge him, not ever.”

And I heard Lucky’s frantic cries. I didn’t like having my back to him, but I could see I was treading into very deep waters. “Okay.”

Phil turned me loose, and I bet I’d have a bruise there. Fury snorted. “This is why we need him in our pack.”

“We don’t even know if it’ll work!” Phil snapped. “Just because Mercy Hauptmann joined a pack doesn’t mean Clint can. She’s a coyote!”

“Skinwalkers have enough magic to get it done.”

I wasn’t very keen on being ignored. “This pack of furballs doesn’t need me in it. Not now, maybe not ever.”

Sighing, Phil edged in front of me. “He won’t be pushed. You know this.”

Fury shrugged. “For a later date then, but he’s right. You can’t keep shifting once or twice a day. You’ll burn out. I can feel how tired you are.”

“Lucky needs him,” Phil growled.

Shocked didn’t even begin to describe everything that was rushing through me. “What?”

“Shifting hurts. A damn lot. Around a full moon, it’s not a problem, but the rest of the days of the month, most of us avoid it.” Fury tucked his hands in his pockets and leaned against the wall. “Cheese has been pushing himself too hard.”

I didn’t want to know why Phil was called Cheese. I rounded on him. “You’ve been hurting yourself? For me?”

Phil wouldn’t meet my eyes. “It’s not that simple.”

“I’m not worth it,” I whispered, hating that he’d done it even once. “Just wait for the moon, okay? Tell Lucky to wait.”

Swallowing hard, Phil’s eyes turned golden. “Mine,” he snarled.

That wasn’t Phil. I froze, unsure, and Fury was suddenly just there, cupping Phil’s face with his big hand. “You and your wolf aren’t separate. It’s just you in there. Stop pushing your wolf away. Accept who you are. Finally.”

Creeping away seemed like a great idea. Bran had never told me any of this stuff was possible. Of course Phil wasn’t like the other werewolves. He was better, more in control, less likely to bite someone, but he was omega. Bran had said all the omegas were a bit… different. Unsure, and a little scared, I shut my eyes and took a deep breath, searching for the part of me that was attached to a furball.

It was like a rope, gold and purple, stretching between us. I fumbled at it and listened with my heart. I could feel Lucky and dimly, just a hint, of the parts I knew were Phil. Lucky roared into the bond, and my eyes filled with gold.

I opened them and put my hand on Fury’s forearm. “You’re wrong. They’re separate,” I said, my voice a deep growl. “It happens.”

“And why should I take the word of a stinky bird on this?” Fury didn’t eat my arm, so that was progress.

“Because he’s right.” Phil’s voice smoothed over me like a warm blanket. “Clint, your eyes are golden.”

Silence dropped between us, and I shifted so I could curl into Phil’s side. “You’re not crazy, and you don’t have a split personality. Stop it. You’re omega. You get to choose your own path.”

Phil started to say something, and Fury started talking about pack bonds, and Lucky flowed out of me, leaving me so tired. My knees wobbled, and before I knew it, I was down on the floor. Phil scooped me up and whispered something threatening at Fury. I really did like Phil, and I was out.

********

When Clint collapsed, rage took over and Phil was through parsing whether it was him or Lucky. Fury was right. Phil needed to accept his wolf more fully, but Clint was right, also, because there were definitely two of them angry. Without thinking, he grabbed him up and clutched him to his chest.

Clint was asleep, just asleep, not hurt, not hurt.

“Don’t touch him,” Phil snarled.

“Get some sleep. That’s an order.”

Instead of standing around and growling, Phil took his mate to his nest. Lucky wouldn’t be satisfied until they were naked and wrapped around their mate. He nearly shredded his shirt, getting it off. Clint never opened his eyes, but he started tugging pillows and blankets around, making Phil smile. His anger faded into affection and concern. He wasn’t the only one who was doing too much shifting. Tomorrow, he’d warn Clint about doing it too often, especially when there was no need.

For once, Lucky didn’t demand a shift, and Phil thanked him by taking off every stitch of clothing and pressing his body against Clint, who pulled some covers over them. It was only then that Phil realized how tired he was. He tucked his face into the back of Clint’s neck and breathed in the spicy scent. His mate wasn’t smelly, just different, and he fell asleep that way.

********

end


End file.
